Weight Of Your World
by mockingjayne
Summary: "They'd been fooled into a false sense of security one too many times before. This situation being no different - the threat of things going south once again always on the fringe of their thoughts." MaggiexGlenn
His breath whispers across her neck, leaving the wisps of her hair erratically fluttering against her. An involuntary shiver runs through her, causing his grip to tighten. The deadweight of his arm across her chest, a heavy reminder of their circumstances as of late - the gentle palm resting against the curvature of her stomach, rising and falling with each breath, a reminder of the life running through her.

She restlessly moves her legs, the feeling of sheets, clean sheets at that, rustle beneath her - the sensation still so unfamiliar, much like everything else in the sprawling bedroom allotted to them. The home-y touches something she could never find herself becoming accustomed to. All the things she'd once taken for granted now seemed gratuitous instead of necessary.

They'd been fooled into a false sense of security one too many times before. This situation being no different - the threat of things going south once again always on the fringe of their thoughts.

He assured her over and over again that they'd be okay, and while she never doubted that he wasn't being truthful (because God knows he couldn't lie), she couldn't help but think of all the people they'd failed somehow in keeping safe. How brutally they had to watch the people they cared about die.

The stakes were higher now. It wasn't just the two of them anymore. Her continually expanding waist made sure that that was a fact no one could forget.

She audibly sighs before carefully lifting her husband's arm and gently placing it on the bed, while she swings her legs over and attempts to quietly sneak out of the room.

It's not long before she finds herself seated outside, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, the gentle motion of the rocking chair settling her wandering thoughts.

The only people out are the those on perimeter watch, no one this close to the houses, so the night lends itself to the peace and quiet she never could find during the day.

It's then then she hears the door swing open, the sleepy face of Glenn peeking out at her before stepping out fully, shutting the door behind him. His hand runs over his face, a gesture she found him doing more and more these days - the stress of their situation finding him through a nervous tell.

He ambles over, a gentle smile finding her lips, as he sleepily leans against the railing across from her, letting a yawn out, before pushing his hair out of his face.

"Didn't even panic this time," he jokes.

She raises her eyebrow at his blatant lie.

"Well…only a little this time," he says with a small laugh. "You know these nightly escapes, should I be taking that personally?"

She dips her head, her short hair not able to cover her face anymore.

"I just…like the quiet" she trails off, and he nods in understanding.

The silence envelops them, encasing them in a cocoon, a moment of reprieve in their constant fight to survive. She stares out into the black of the night, her eyes flickering every so often to the heat of his mesmerized gaze on her, or rather on her hands, as they slowly make circles over her stomach.

She'd yet to feel the baby kick just yet, but every so often a fluttering of sorts would tickle her from inside. The first time it had happened, it not only sent her into panic, convinced that something was wrong…again, but at her sudden and very loud gasp, Glenn had nearly tripped from across the room trying to get to her. The whole situation would've been comical if not for the very real appendectomy that took place just a couple months ago, preceded by a close call and a night neither of them were likely to forget.

Her fingers trace the pink, puckering scar now adorning her lower abdomen, a physical marker to bear the emotional pain of the night that had taken so much from them and yet spared her in so many ways.

"I didn't think it would be like this," she says with the slightest quiver of her bottom lip, almost imperceptible to anyone else, especially in the dark, but not him. He saw.

He pushes himself off the railing, taking the few steps until he's kneeling in front of her, balancing his weight on the arms of the rocking chair. His face is impossibly close to hers, her nose rubbing against his, before he places a kiss to her forehead, soothing the worry lines that she can't help but form.

And then he's kneeling, looking up at her, leaning her forward with the weight of his hands on the armrests. She doesn't even brace herself for a fall - she knows he wouldn't let it happen.

"I keep forgetting that people are the most dangerous thing we face," she says with a shake of her head, her arms wrapping a little tighter around her protruding stomach.

He nods, having seen the same evil she had witnessed. She knows he grapples constantly with the killing he's participated in, that it was never something he wanted to do, but when faced with the choice of them over his family, he'd chosen her and their baby over the threat of what could have been. The retaliation weighing heavy on him, as well as her, having brokered the deal - she had known there would be a price.

The internal conflict she wrestled with as the guilt sunk deeper and deeper while the relief raged through her, the steady heartbeat not audible to the outside world, it caused a myriad of emotions to flood her, and the result was usually a combustion of tears that Glenn found himself wiping away with the pads of his thumbs.

She reaches out, her fingers dusting over the line of his cheekbone.

"We deserve this," he says, and her hand stops, flopping down to her lap.

"No, no. That's…no, that's not what I meant," he fumbles with his words, the exhaustion compounding with the seriousness of the conversation, his nerves find their way to interject their awkwardness into the mood.

He removes his hands from the armrests, settling her chair back down to the ground, before running his hand through his hair, likely stalling so he can settle the racing thoughts undoubtedly on his mind.

"What I meant was we deserve to be happy."

She blinks back the tears that are fighting to disperse down her face.

"We wanted this. We chose this," he finishes by placing his palm back on the same spot it always seemed to find itself since the day he'd found out she was pregnant.

She nods her head, because she knows that's the truth. And she doesn't regret it, not for a second. They'd spent years fighting to stay alive so they could build a life worth living for. All the warnings, all the skeptical looks, and the even nastier comments she'd received about how stupid she'd been to let this happen - she'd told them one after the other that she hadn't _let_ anything happen, but rather had made a conscious choice to not just simply exist but to live - built around the notion that fear shouldn't dictate, or rather stop life from continuing on.

However, late at night when she closes her eyes, a barrage of memories flood her mind - deafening cries, the sting of blood spattering her face with that of her friend, the fever burning her from the inside out, spreading its flame down her body, reducing her once able body to one of wavering power. The space between her and Glenn growing with every swing of the bat. His pleading eyes, begging her to focus on him, just him. It's at that point she can feel the life slipping from her, and though the first time around she was sure it was her own life, by the third or fourth time the nightmare occurred, she knew it was her child that was slipping from her.

And that's usually when she wakes, drenched in a fear so real and imminent that she fumbles for the covers, ripping them back, and inspecting to make sure that her baby's still there, still real, still alive.

It's happened so many times, it's become routine for her to wake up in the middle of the night, her mind screaming, paralyzed in fear, that she'd mastered the art of self-soothing, refusing to wake Glenn every night. Instead, she silently checks to make sure everything is okay, then lies awake, attempting to quiet the muffled voices still lingering from her dream, from her life, before she reluctantly gets up, heading outside.

The first time she did this, Glenn had woken up in a blind panic, racing through the house, searching for her, bruising his shin on the coffee table, having been half-asleep, and letting more than a few expletives loose before hysterically swinging the front door open, running out, barefoot, terror gripping every muscle in his body, before she'd called for him from the porch. His relief present in a bone-crushing hug, her name but a whispered plea running down her neck, before pulling her back and letting his eyes roam over her, making sure she was okay. After several assurances on her part, and gripping his hand to steady his rapidly beating heart, he'd sat with her in his matching rocker, staring out into the expanse of darkness with her.

"It was easier to think I could keep her safe when we were just talkin' about doing it…it feels so…real now. And we can't keep anyone safe."

"No, we can't," he says with no defeat in his tone. She balks at him, not sure how this is supposed to make her feel better.

"I won't lie to you, I never could. We don't know what's going to happen, no one does. All we can do is have hope. We've made it this far, haven't we? And we've had some pretty close calls."

"More than anyone else, it seems."

"Exactly. Babe, we got this. I promise we do," he says with a confidence that has her believing that he really does believe what he's saying, despite all the odds stacked against them.

She leans in, her hands finding purchase on his shirt, her forehead resting against his, as his hands come to rest against her cheeks, his fingers tangled in her short hair, thumbs softly caressing her cheeks. Their breath intermixes creating a heated combination encompassing their faces into a comfortable warmth, broken only by Glenn's whispered assurance, "Over my dead body will I let anything bad happen to you or the baby."

He can feel her shake her head, her nose rubbing up against his own at her silent protest.

"No," she murmurs against his lips. "Don't say that. I need you. Alive." Her grip tightens, refusing to let him go, as if her physical hold on him could keep him tethered to her always, safe.

He buries his head in the crook of her neck, "Okay, okay," he assures her, over and over again, the vibration of his words course through her, settling in the pit of her stomach. These are the only type of assurances that they can keep, the promise that they'll do their best to keep breathing, everything else is up to happenstance.

"Hey," she says while getting him to pick up his head and look at her. She pushes his hair back to look at his exhausted eyes. The toll of this life weighing heavily on him, but the same boy she fell in love with still present even after several years. If this life taught her one thing, it was to never take anything for granted. Every I love you, every kiss, every quiet moment was one she cherished. Sitting here, staring at the man who would lay is life down for her, she couldn't help but think of a world where he wasn't with her, another life perhaps where none of this had happened. She'd stopped imagining what life could've been a long time ago when it became apparent it was never going to go back to how it was, a nostalgia she rarely felt anymore. And the thought of a life without Glenn, of just how differently things would be had that bat landed just a few over. She shivers at the thought, and then immediately feels guilt wash over her again.

He leans in, pressing his lips to her own, momentarily clearing her head, as if he were accepting all the guilt and sorrow she'd acquired, and taking it on himself, bearing the burden and choosing to carry the weight of her world for her.

Pulling back he smiles at her. "Let's go back to bed."

She gives a weak, close-mouthed smile before nodding her agreement.

Helping her up from her chair, he wraps her blanket tighter around her, and guides her to the front door.

"Him," he says out of nowhere.

"What?" she asks, confusion painted on her face, as he opens the front door.

"Earlier, you said, 'her'. It could be a him," he jokes with a grin.

She stops walking and looks at him, a real, genuine smile taking over, and she laughs, ringing out through their house.

"Okay, Glenn. Sure, it could be a him," she says with another laugh, before turning to walk up the stairs.

"Hey, it could! I've got a 50/50 shot here," he loudly proclaims behind her as he ascends the stairs behind her.

They eventually settle into bed - her head just barely resting on his shoulder, her stomach pushing up against his side.

"Goodnight," she whispers to him, before closing her eyes, the night's emotional rollercoaster catching up with her, leaving nothing but exhaustion in its wake, but the threat of the nightmare occurring again, keeping her from fully drifting off to sleep. She floats somewhere between sleep and wake, fluttering lashes and even breaths, until she feels her head repositioned and hears a voice with gentle weight resting on the side of her.

She peeks through her dark lashes to find Glenn, hunched over, hand resting protectively on her stomach, whispering, "We'll be okay," to the baby.

She can't help the watery smile that takes over, as he places a gentle kiss through her shirt, hoping to reach their tiny baby nestled beneath. He moves to lay back down with her, and she quickly closes her eyes, not wanting to interrupt their moment. But as she settles back, she moves her head to the crook of his neck, and grips him tighter, letting him know he was caught.

"I love you," she murmurs into him.

"Love you," he responds in kind, pulling her closer.

His soft breaths lull her to sleep with the hopeful promise of a tomorrow with her family to meet her in her dreams.

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 _Thank you so very much for reading! This is my first attempt at writing Maggie and Glenn, and I'm so excited! I've been a long time fan and just recently started getting a little more involved, and so naturally that meant taking on what the aftermath of the season six finale would look like. In my mind, the three of them are fine...emotionally scarred, yes (and physically in Maggie's case) from what happened, but ultimately working their way through it. Anyway, please leave your thoughts, I'd love to hear them!_


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